


The Nova Garden

by icandrawamoth



Series: Rogue Podron Made Me Do It [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (if the specifics are important in my head they're 21 and 44), Age Difference, Banter, Charity Auctions, Date Auction, First Dates, First Kiss, Friendship, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Gen, Hero Worship, Holding Hands, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, Rogue Podron, Teasing, i.e. Tycho exists in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-26 02:05:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13225890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Tycho offers himself for a charity date auction. Poe bids. Neither of them expects anything out of it.





	The Nova Garden

**Author's Note:**

> Rogue Podron made one tiny quip about Tycho/Poe, and my brain was all about figuring out a way to make that work. This is what happened. Thanks to ellyah and drinkupthesunrise on Tumblr for helping with various parts of it.

“I can't believe I let them talk me into this,” Tycho grouses as he straightens the white and black New Republic dress uniform. He looks up with a glare when Wedge has the audacity to laugh. “And I can't believe they didn't ask you.”

Wedge grins. “Who says they didn't? Just seems I was the one smart enough to say no.”

“It's for a good cause,” Tycho mutters – the thing Mon and Leia had said who knows how many times now.

“Not quite enough to convince me to stand up on stage and be auctioned off like a piece of meat,” Wedge quips. He reaches to smooth a crease out of the arm of Tycho's uniform then stands back and looks him up and down. “You're going to fetch a tidy sum, I think.”

Tycho refuses to let his cheeks color. “So I go to dinner with whoever wants to fork over the most credits to the Refugee Relief Fund. It's not a big deal.”

“It's called a _date_ auction for a reason,” Wedge reminds him, emphasizing the word with a grin.

Tycho glares. “You're starting to sound like Wes.”

Wedge laughs aloud at that. “I'd count my lucky stars he's not seeing you like this, my friend.”

Tycho is figuring out an appropriate threat to make sure he never even finds out, but then Leia is at his side, taking his arm. “I always forget how nicely you flyboys clean up. Are you ready, Colonel?”

“As I'll ever be.” Tycho puts on a smile and gets one from Leia in return before he's led out of the room, Wedge giving him a thumbs-up as he goes (and probably running to get a seat and watch the proceedings soon after), and down the hall.

They enter a backstage area, and Leia stops him at a door. “They should be nearly ready for you,” she tells him, and quietly swings it open.

On the other side, Tycho can just spot Mon at a podium before the crowd and hear her welcoming them and introducing the auction. “Our first guest who has generous submitted himself for the cause,” she announces, waving a hand toward where he stands. Leia nudges him forward, and Tycho draws a breath before stepping onto the stage.

* * *

“Hero of the Rebellion, veteran of the Battles of Hoth, Endor, Jakku, and many others, Colonel Tycho Celchu,” Mon Mothma finishes, and Poe Dameron sits bold upright in his seat.

Across the table, his roommate at the Hosnian Prime Flight Academy, Snap, raises an eyebrow at him. “Something grab your attention there?”

“Karé didn't say who they were going to be auctioning off when she got us these tickets,” Poe says, staring up at the stage where Tycho Celchu stands, looking mildly uncomfortable – and extremely handsome

“In other words, no one let Poe know one of his top Rebel crushes would be on the auction block,” the third and final occupant of the table, Jessika Pava, coos.

“I mean, _look_ at him,” Poe mutters, gesturing. “Forty-some years of war and fighting and torture and grief and countless missions to help save the galaxy and he still looks like _that_.” He leans his chin on a hand, well aware that he sounds ridiculous, but not actually able to care. Celchu stands at parade rest in the middle of the stage, gazing out over the tables of ready bidders. His blonde hair glints under the spotlights, and though he can't see too well from their table near the back, Poe thinks there's embarrassed color in his pale cheeks. It only makes him more handsome, truth be told.

“You do know he's old enough be your father,” Snap says mildly.

Poe only shrugs. “He could have known my parents, but I've never met him in person.”

Jess suddenly has that sharp grin on her face that always means something fun is about to happen – usually followed shortly behind by trouble. “Do it,” she hisses, laying a hand on Poe's arm. “Bid on him.”

“What?” Poe stutters. “We were only going to watch. I couldn't – there's no way I'll be the highest.”

“I'll contribute to your pot,” Jess insists. “Don't look at me like that – my grandma just send me a bunch of extra spending money, and she's always excessive.” She waves it away like it's nothing. “And if we win, a thoroughly detailed minute-by-minute breakdown of your date with _Tycho Celchu_ will be more than worth it.”

“Yeah?” There's a strange feeling rising in Poe's chest like this might actually be possible. “Snap, what do you think?”

“Well, I'm not as rich as Jess's grandma, and you can say goodbye to any hope of a birthday present, but I've got some credits I can throw you.”

Poe's grin takes over over his entire face as he throws an arm around both of them. “You guys are the best!”

“Shh, the bidding is about to start,” Snap says, jerking his head toward the stage. “Now that they're done extolling his considerable virtues.”

There's a quick discussion of their top bidding amount at the table, and Poe feels reasonably good about it as he takes hold of his bid paddle. They'd all been given one when they came in, but he hadn't expected to actually be using it.

The bidding begins higher than he expected, though it's still under their limit. It dampens his enthusiasm a bit; maybe his odds of coming out on top aren't so great after all. After a few bids, most of the people drop off. Then it's just Poe and two others, an Abednedo and a human woman closer to Tycho's age. The Abednedo is on top when Poe raises his paddle to bit his limit. The woman raises, and his heart sinks as he watches the Abenedo groan and drop his paddle.

“Once more,” Jess hisses, jabbing Poe in the arm. “C'mon, we can't give up that easily!”

“Are you-” But before Poe can finish the question, Jess is grabbing his hand and raising the paddle.

“Going once,” Mon Mothma says, nodding to him, “going twice” - the other bidder glares and slumps in her seat - “And we have our winner. Thank you, sir. You'll receive the proper information shortly.”

Poe's heart pounds ridiculously as he watches Tycho turn to look at him, and he can barely hear the excited noises his friends are making. The man onstage gives him a little nod before he exits and the next person to be bid on comes out.

“You did it!” Jess exclaims, punching him in the arm. “You're going on a date with him!”

“If you can figure out where to get that extra money from,” Snap says skeptically.

“I can walk to campus for awhile instead of taking a bus,” Poe murmurs, still feeling dazed. He valiantly beats back a blush, snapping back to himself. “This is silly, right?” he mutters. “I mean, it's not like it's even a real date. It'll be two guys eating meal together because of charity. It's not like-”

“Hey, don't psych yourself out, Dameron,” Jess tells him. “You never know. Love stories have started in weirder ways.”

Poe makes a face. “This is not going to be the start of some sort of epic romantic holodrama.”

Jess shrugs and leans back in her chair. “You never know. Maybe the two of you will be thanking me at your wedding.”

“Thanking your grandma and her generosity more like,” Snap mutters and is the next to receive a playful punch from the girl.

Poe loses track of the conversation, though, as his datapad vibrates and he pulls it out to see a message sent from the organizers of the event, his contact information having been attached to the number on his paddle. He thumbs open the communication and scans the text. Instructions on where to transfer the payment. Information on the date itself. The dinner will take place that night, at a restaurant Poe has heard of. “Look at this,” he murmurs, showing the display to his friends.

“The Nova Garden?” Jess reads. “Isn't that place super expensive?”

Poe nods, biting his lip. It's not exactly the sort of place he's used to going.

“Looks like they went all out for this,” Jess muses. She looks Poe up and down. “What are you going to wear?”

“Um, I was thinking my dress uniform? That works, right?”

Jess snorts. “And advertise to a decorated colonel you love and respect that you're just a cadet? I don't think so.”

Poe bites back a protest at her wording. “What do you suggest then?”

“When we're done here, we're going shopping,” he decides. “We'll find you something.”

“May I remind you both that we've already spent more than we agreed on?” Snap intervenes.

“Can't you rent suits?” Poe suggests. “Can we do that?”

“We can do that.” Jess pulls out her comlink and strokes it tellingly. “And if I ask very nicely, Gramma might just be willing to help me help a friend.”

* * *

At seven-thirty, there's a speeder taxi outside Wedge's apartment ready to take Tycho to pick up his date and then to the restaurant.

“Be good,” his friend tells him with a grin as he walks with him to the door. “Try not to break the kid. He looked like a fan.”

“As if either of us as ever wanted fans,” Tycho mutters, but if he's honest, that's not entirely true. Who can't enjoy at least a little someone looking at them with that kind of wonder and respect?

Wedge chuckles. “Have a nice time.”

“Don't wait up,” Tycho deadpans, and then he's out the door, politely greeting the driver and settling into the back seat.

In a matter of minutes, they're pulling up outside one of the flight academy dorms. Of course, the kid was as young as he seemed. Soon, a trio exits the building: a short, dark-haired girl, a burly young man, and Tycho's date – Poe Dameron – tan, tousle-haired, and well-muscled. _Not what this is_ , he reminds himself as he watches the girl fret with Poe's curls, then him gently swat her fingers away before saying goodbye and moving toward the taxi.

Tycho straightens as the door opens, giving him a smile. “Hello, Poe.”

Poe straps himself in and turns to Tycho, clearly nervous. “Um, hello. Colonel Celchu.”

Tycho rolls his eyes lightly. “Tycho, please. This is a date, isn't it?”

Poe flushes, and Tycho watches the way he looks at him, taking in the dress uniform before looking down at his own suit. “I overdressed,” he says morosely.

“You look very handsome,” Tycho tells him, and bites back a chuckle at the way it makes his cheeks darken, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable. “Wearing this was probably the lazy way out, but I've never been much for fancy dress.”

“But all the dignitary missions you're been on,” Poe says, mouth suddenly moving unrestrained. “Your time on Alderaan and Coruscant and here on Hosnian...”

Tycho laughs. “Well, we all have to suffer for out jobs now and then.”

Poe smiles, seeming a little more at ease, and then the taxi driver is informing them they've arrived at the restaurant. They climb out of the speeder and head inside, the maître d' greeting them with a smile when Tycho tells her his name. “Ah, the Refugee Relief Fund couple. This way, please.” They find themselves at what could perhaps be considered the best table in the restaurant, near a huge wall of windows baring a spectacular view of the sparkling city lights below.

“This is...nice,” Poe says awkwardly, looking over the fine linens, silver and china, the candles in the middle of the table. It's clear he feels out of place.

“Relax,” Tycho tells him. “Just own it.”

Poe gives him a look, then smiles hesitantly. “Okay.”

A waiter arrives with a wine list, and Tycho takes it, scanning the names. “Any suggestions?” he asks Poe.

The younger man bites his lip. “Whatever you like?” Tycho points to a name on the list, and Poe nods. “Sounds good to me.”

A few minutes later, there's a pair of glasses in front of them, and they're both perusing menus. Poe seems grateful to have something to look at and not having to find something to occupy his gaze that's not staring at Tycho. “This all looks amazing,” he murmurs.

Tycho hums agreement. The food and surroundings are much fancier than he's used to, as well. “I'll go for the nerf steak, I think,” he decides. At least that's something he's heard of.

“Okay if I just copy you?” Poe asks, and Tycho chuckles.

“Be my guest, but if you end up thinking I have bad taste, it's not my fault.”

“I'll try not to blame you, sir.”

“Tycho.”

“Tycho,” Poe amends sheepishly.

The waiter arrives to take their order, and then it's just the two of them again with no excuses. “So you're at the Academy,” Tycho asks, trying to start a conversation. “You must be graduating soon. What are your plans?”

“I'm aiming to join the New Republic Defense Fleet,” he answers. “The threat from the Empire may be all but gone, but we still need good people there. My parents were part of the Rebellion, and ever since I was a kid, I've wanted to continue what they did. My mother was a pilot, and I was flying practically before I could walk. That's what I want to do with my life.”

 _A man after my own heart,_ Tycho finds himself thinking, foolishly. As if the galaxy isn't chock-full of handsome young men who enjoy flying. “Your mother,” he asks, “anyone I know?”

“Not anymore,” Poe says softly, “she died, several years ago, but her name was Shara Bey.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” Shara Bey. Not someone he'd been close to, but it rings a bell. “Bey. She was on the second Death Star run, wasn't she?”

“In an A-wing, yes.” Poe smiles. “You knew her.”

“Not well,” Tycho admits, “but if she survived that run, she was a stellar pilot, and worth anyone's respect.”

“That's for sure.”

Tycho is glad to see Poe more at east now that they're talking about this. It's clear that he loved his mother very much and that passion for flying is in his blood. “So, are you training on the A-wing as well?”

“Actually, my specialization is the X-wing,” Poe tells him, eyes shining. “Just like you.” Then he bites his lip as if he hadn't quite meant to say that last bit.

“I spent my share of time in an A-wing. They're both strong ships, but it's always good to hear someone appreciates the X-wing and isn't just in it for the speed.”

“Right! And-”

Their food arrives then, cutting him off, and Tycho accepts his plate from the waiter, mouth already watering. The smell of roasted meat and vegetables is _delicious_. “You were saying?” he prompts as the waiter disappears again, but when he looks up Poe has already cut himself a bite of steak and stuffed it in his mouth. His eyes go wide at Tycho's question, clearly torn at not being able to answer.

Tycho can't stifle a laugh. “No worries, Poe. How is it?”

Poe swallows the bite, cheeks pleasantly pink, and says, “Delicious. Turns out you have good taste after all.”

“I'm glad to hear it.” Tycho cuts himself a bite and eats, closing his eyes to savor the way the meat virtually melts in his mouth. It's nothing like the fare he's accustomed to. He thinks he could get used to this.

“But you're sitting here asking about me,” Poe says suddenly, the works seeming to pop out from where he's been holding them back, “but you're you. You're _Tycho Celchu_. The stories you could tell!”

Tycho looks at him, a little amused. “Something particular you wanted to hear?”

Poe opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, seemingly unable to decide on what to say net.

“Poe, I'm just a man,” Tycho tells him. “Sure, I have more stories to tell, but I've been around longer than you have. I lived through a war. You're lucky you've spend your entire adult life in peacetime. Don't begrudge yourself that.”

“But-!”

Tycho shakes his head lightly and points at himself. “Really. Just a simple man. What kind of date involves exchanging war stories anyway?”

The reminder of why they're here makes Poe flush again, and Tycho thinks he could get used to that too. Poe's shy nervousness and his enthusiastic earnestness is clearly more attractive than he knows. But...

“But it's not really, right?” Poe says hesitantly. “I mean, it's not like...” Cheeks flaming, he motions slowly between them. “I mean, it's just a charity thing. We won't see each other again after tonight. I mean unless it's in passing at an event or something,” he babbles.

Tycho squints at him. “Are you uncomfortable with the possibility?” he asks, and he realizes it should have occurred to him before. Maybe that really is all it is for Poe, just like Tycho has been telling himself. It's obvious, really, isn't it? With the fact that Tycho has to be twice his age, not to mention their difference in rank, it probably couldn't work if they did want something more out of this.

“No!” Poe exclaims, them bites his lip when he realizes how loud he's been. “No,” he repeats, quiet, “I mean, I never thought... I thought you, being you, would...”

“If I said you were cute when you're nervous, would that be over the line?” Tycho ventures.

Poe goes pink all the way up to his ears, dropping his eyes and muttering something Tycho can't hear.

“Excuse me?”

“I said 'no',” Poe mumbles. He scrubs his hands over his face, peers at Tycho between his fingers before dropping them again. “Are you messing with me?” he asks softly.

“Of course not,” Tycho is quick to reassure him. “I honestly think you're an interesting man, Poe. If it weren't for this, I might never have met you, and that would be a shame.”

Poe stares at him open-mouthed for a long moment, and Tycho can practically see what he's thinking. Something along the lines of _Oh my gods,_ Tycho Celchu _, hero of the Rebellion,_ _really just said those things to me._ Perhaps, given time, he could easy the hero worship, get them onto a more level playing field.

“Should we continue eating?” Tycho suggests, gesturing to the plates they're both abandoned during the conversation.

Poe nods wordlessly and retrieves his fork.

Surprisingly, things do get easier after that. As they continue their meal, Poe does ask him questions about some of his exploits, and Tycho answers them, telling truths but spinning them with just enough drama to keep his date entertained. He'd be lying if he said the rapt light in Poe's eyes wasn't getting to him. Poe tells him a few of the adventures he and his classmates have had as well, and he even openly flirts with Tycho once or twice, much to his delight.

Too soon, it seems, their plates and glasses are empty, and after confirming that the charity has given the restaurant the payment information, they're left alone. “I can call the taxi to take us back,” Tycho says.

“I can walk you to where you're staying?” is Poe's counter, hesitant. “Just- walk you back?” he clarifies as if not wanting to give the wrong idea.

Tycho chuckles. If only. “As nice as this has been, I'm staying with Wedge while I'm on-planet, and it would probably be better for both of us if we didn't face him like this together.”

“Commandant Antilles, you mean?” Poe's eyes go wide. “I didn't-”

“I reckon you knew we were friends. It was cheaper than renting a hotel.” On impulse, he reaches for Poe's hand, feels it tremor just a little in surprise but not pull away. “I would offer the same to you, but I wouldn't want your friends to give you a hard time.”

“They would,” Poe admits with a fond smile. “Even more than they already will.”

“So it's best we share the taxi then.” When Poe doesn't protest further, Tycho retrieves his comlink and makes the call.

* * *

Their hands stay linked as they wait outside the building, and Tycho can't help noticing the drawn look on Poe's face. “Hey.”

Poe looks at him, forces a smile. “What?”

“Try not to look so sad. We had a nice time, right?”

Poe nods. “It's over now, though.”

“Not quite.”

“Near enough,” Poe counters.

Tycho is surprised by the strength of his own reaction to seeing Poe upset. He ponders, makes a decision. He turns, uses the hand still joined with Poe's to pull him near, the other finding his hip as he leans in close. “All right?” he asks.

Wide-eyed and silent, Poe nods, leaning in like the older man is a living gravity well.

Tycho kisses him. Barely more than a peck, a brief touch of warm lips on warm lips before he steps back. “I think I'd like to see you again,” he says before he can talk himself out of it.

The pleasant shock on Poe's face is a thing to see, and then he's nodding vigorously, gasping, “Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that, too.”

Tycho grins. “Let me give you comlink number. We'll keep in touch.”

* * *

“He _what?_ ” Jess screeches as Poe reaches the end of the story. Her eyes are comically wide from where she stares at him as she lounges on his bed. “Poe, you son of a gun!”

“I don't believe it,” Snap says with a laugh. “You and Tycho Celchu. You sure you're not pulling our legs?”

“I'm not,” Poe tells them earnestly, even though the night still feels like half a dream. Did he really go on a date with Tycho? Did they really hold hands and kiss while they waited for a taxi? His life has abruptly become some sort of romantic holodrama, and he has zero problem with it. Except... A laugh pops out of him, and his friends give him a look.

“What?” Snap demands.

“Jess was right.”

“I'm always right,” the girl preens. “...what was I right about this time?”

“Love stories starting in weird ways,” Poe explains, then feels himself blush for what must the thousandth time today. “Though that's a strong word for what it is right now.”

Jess shakes her head slowly, a huge grin plastered on her face. “Aw, man, Dameron, you have got it _bad._ ”

* * *

“I told you not to wait up,” Tycho says mildly as he lets himself back into Wedge's apartment and sees his friend sitting in front a holoprojector.

Wedge flips off the device and stretches. “Like I would miss the debrief on this one. How did it go?”

Tycho can't keep a smile from his face as he drops onto the sofa. “ _Well_.”

Wedge raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“He's a good kid,” Tycho says. “Though, not really a kid. We got along great. He's...sweet.”

“Sweet?” Wedge's surprise ratchets up another notch. “So it really was a date.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“I'm saying it.” Wedge watches him closely. “So...?”

“So?”

“So it was a date. There gonna be a second one?”

“Sometimes I hate that you know me so well, you know that?”

“I know you so well, so yeah, I know that.”

Tycho rolls his eyes at him. “I think so. I want there to be. We exchanged numbers and promised to meet up next time I'm on planet.”

“And when's that going to be?”

“Soon,” Tycho decides. “As soon I can make it. Maybe the Refugee Relief Fund will need a non-date-auction-related ambassador for a near-future event.” He makes a mental note to somehow thank the charity for more than just the work they do.


End file.
